


Defiant One

by MiriamKenneath



Category: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
Genre: Come Eating, Deepthroating, Defiant Victim, F/M, Non-Consensual Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 23:51:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16753846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/pseuds/MiriamKenneath
Summary: After the destruction of Alderaan, Tarkin derives some private enjoyment from Leia's continued defiance.





	Defiant One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ancslove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancslove/gifts).



His report on the destruction of the planet of Alderaan and its pesky natives was complete.

The performance of the battle station’s experimental superweapon had exceeded even the most optimistic of theoretical projections, and credit for the realisation of this latest military triumph was Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin’s.

The Emperor, he knew, was most pleased and would, in his pleasure, be inclined to give Tarkin the favour of the Imperial throne. He was so close to displacing that loathsome Lord Vader as the Empire’s most trusted lieutenant – and second most-powerful man in the galaxy – that he could practically _taste_ it. All he needed was one more victory of a slightly greater magnitude, and the deal would be as good as signed and sealed.

Those stolen schematics were close to inconsequential, that self-styled Rebellion a mere irritant. Both would be dealt with soundly – and soon – as soon as the location of the Rebel base was revealed.

Which, if Tarkin was to have any say in the matter, would be very soon indeed.

Tarkin switched off his datapad and leaned backwards in his desk chair. He stretched and rolled his shoulders. That blasted report had kept him occupied for the past five standard hours straight. He hadn’t left his private office once, not even to take a break. And truth was, even a Grand Moff needed to take the occasional break.

Hmm.

He wondered how the interrogation of the ex-senator from Alderaan and known Rebel operative the Princess Leia Organa was proceeding. Had she reconsidered her position yet? He checked the wall chrono. Ah yes, plenty of time before his next scheduled commitment for a bit of a look-see.

Tarkin met Vader at the repulsorlift on the detention level. Tarkin had just arrived; Vader was just leaving.

‘Lord Vader.’

‘Governor.’ Vader’s acknowledgement of Tarkin’s greeting was practically insubordinate, and poorly suppressed ire was rising off of him like a heat distortion off of a fusion engine. He needed say nothing further: it was obvious that the destruction of Alderaan had not been sufficient to leverage the princess’s cooperation and that she continued to be singularly… _obstinate_.

‘I believe I shall try my luck with her,’ Tarkin informed Vader coolly.

Vader’s only reply was silence, but he was undoubtedly infuriated by Tarkin’s self-assured presumption. His masked gaze was a laser sword tracing a red hot line between Tarkin’s shoulder blades. Sweat began to bead there underneath his uniform. Tarkin pretended to ignore it. Vader would not be around to judge Tarkin for much longer.

Tarkin found the princess kneeling in the centre of her cell, back straight, fists clenched, and facing the door as he entered. Vader’d just tossed her in willy-nilly, it seemed, and she hadn’t the inclination or opportunity to rise. His interrogation of her must have been…aggressive. _Perfect_. The door slid shut with a breathy whisper behind him.

She hissed wordlessly with undisguised fury.

‘Such rudeness, princess, such defiance. What would your father say?’

‘He has no opinion on this matter, since you murdered him, you monster.’ Her voice was a low growl of hostility. ‘However, if he were to have one, I’m certain it would be in perfect alignment with mine.’

‘Mmm.’ Tarkin was unperturbed. ‘You know, I still remember when I first made the pleasure of your acquaintance. You were what, thirteen? So bright-eyed, so eager to learn about politics. If your father hadn’t been there to supervise you, I would have done _this_ in a heartbeat back then.’

Tarkin opened the placket of his jodhpurs, took the princess’s head between his two hands and forced her forward and down. His prick brushed her plush bottom lip as it began to fill. She shuddered, repulsed. Tarkin did not allow her to turn away. Her pupils were small and black with hate. ‘If you bite, I will have your teeth removed one by one,’ he warned.

‘Teeth are easier to replace than –’

Tarkin backhanded her. ‘Such defiance, such defiance,’ he remarked. ‘I shall enjoy breaking you in like a dewback to the saddle.’ He backhanded her again on the opposite cheek, with his non-dominant hand, for good measure. ‘Begin, or your teeth will be the least I will take from you.’

The princess glared balefully as she took him into her mouth. Her tongue retracted his foreskin, licked at the flared ridge of the crown and massaged the sensitive frenulum on the underside. The sensation was unexpectedly sharp and sweet. Well, well. She’d had experience.

But Tarkin wasn’t interested in her technique, and he was fully erect now. He braced his feet and thighs and rammed his prick down her throat. She flailed and gagged. He forced her down to the hilt. Moisture was gathering in the corners of her eyes. ‘Don’t bite,’ he reminded her. Then, he began to thrust.

He didn’t bother with gentleness. This was about his power over her, and discipline. Her throat distended visibly as he thrust in and out, in and out, in and out. She was flushed crimson, and the tears were shaken from her lashes by the pounding he was giving her, mixing with the foamy saliva running down her chin. He used her, and he used her, and he used her, and he made himself last, and last, and last. He’d been waiting a long time for this – it was no less than he deserved – and it was just as good as he’d imagined it would be.

Eventually, he felt his scrotum begin to tighten; he was approaching the point of no return. The princess’s visible anger had only increased with her visible dishevelment. The heat of her mouth was pure, molten rage. For a moment, he considered dousing her fire with his come. Marking her.

But no. He had something _better_ in mind –

With a muted roar, Tarkin tore himself from the princess’s mouth and began to ejaculate onto the floor of the detention cell. Ah, those were nice, deep, gut-wrenching spurts.

‘You will clean that up…with your tongue,’ Tarkin said as he tucked himself away.

‘No.’

‘No?’

What was this? Another spark of defiance? After that? Yet, she was still on her knees. Tarkin kicked her in the belly with one durasteel-toed, polished nerf leather boot. She doubled over, the wind knocked out of her, her face mere millimetres from Tarkin’s semen.

‘You _will_ , my defiant one,’ Tarkin said while the princess gasped wretchedly for air, ‘or I will continue to take my pleasure with the rest of your holes as well.’

A long pause. Tarkin thought she might refuse again. He readied his foot for another kick. But then, her pretty pink tongue dipped into the mess onto the floor between them. So small, so delicate.

‘All of it.’

That would take quite a while.

‘Not so defiant after all, are we?’ Tarkin remarked rhetorically. The princess refused to look him in the face whilst she busied herself with her cleanup duty. He shrugged to himself; he knew she was listening. ‘Good girl. It’s a shame, though. I was becoming keen to partake of your other holes. Perhaps I will anyway. Later, alas. I must return to work.’

After she was finished, Tarkin left her in a crumpled, retching heap in the corner of the detention cell and returned to his office. What a pleasant diversion that had been, and he knew just how to increase his amusement even further. He sat down at this desk and commed Vader.

‘Lord Vader.’

‘Governor.’

‘Ah, Lord Vader, thank you.’ Tarkin paused, relishing the impatience, and the rising fury, which was so much like the princess’s, really, that he could practically _feel_ it emanating from the audio emitter. ‘You shall wish to follow up with the princess at your earliest convenience. I do believe I have made some small progress with her.’

 

* * *

_**-fin-** _


End file.
